"You want me to join you? I could fly out."

Carrie chewed on her bottom lip while a million thoughts went through her mind. This seemed like a bad idea. Or was it? She sat there awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

"Carrie, you there?"

Fuck it, she thought.

"Yeah. You don't mind?"

"Of course not."

"Well, it would be nice to have the company. But Quinn - I haven't made up my mind. In fact I'm kind of a mess right now, so -"

"Don't worry, I get it. Text me your location."

Several hours later Carrie flew through the door of her hotel room. She was on a fucking mission now and she sure as hell wasn't staying here. Hurriedly throwing toiletries in her bag, she took out her phone and dialed Quinn. He picked up on the first ring.

"Quinn - where are you?"

"Kansas City airport, about to rent a car."

"Good. Listen, stay in Kansas City. Find a hotel downtown. I'm on my way. I'll meet you there in three hours."

Carrie could see the incredulous look on Quinn's face at the other end of the phone. "What?" he said.

"Just find a hotel. I'll explain everything when I get there."

Dusk was falling two and a half hours later as she approached Kansas City. A text came in from Quinn.

"Marriott Downtown on West 12th. Room 523. And I got another room for you."

Carrie smiled. Things had changed since the conversation with her mother, but she appreciated Quinn's chivalry all the same. It couldn't hurt to try something new and take it slow.

A few minutes later Quinn opened the door to his hotel room, and she practically flew into his embrace.

"Hey!" he said, shocked at the fierceness of her embrace.

"Hey," she whispered, hugging him tightly. He was warm, and smelled of soap and aftershave. She could have stayed in his arms forever.

"You ok?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for coming." She released him and stepped back, tucking her hair behind her ears. Damn, how was it possible to look that good in jeans and a simple navy button-down shirt? Calm yourself, horndog, she thought.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be," Quinn replied, smiling. "What happened with your mom?"

She sighed. "It's a long story. I'll tell you all about it. But in the meantime...I'm starving. I need some of those ribs Kansas City is famous for."

"Ribs it is. You wanna drop off your stuff in your room? It's just down the hall, room 502." He handed her a plastic keycard.

"Great. I'll meet you downstairs in five."

Alone in her room Carrie changed into a fresh shirt and jeans, gave her hair a quick brush, and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. Her stomach was doing back flips, and it wasn't just hunger.

Downstairs the concierge directed them to a ribs place within walking distance. As they headed out the doors into the evening, Quinn silently took her hand. The gesture took Carrie off guard, setting off a chain reaction of tingling nerve endings throughout her entire body. She gave his hand a squeeze.

"You ever been to Kansas City before?" she asked.

"Once, when I was a kid. Don't remember it really. You?"

Carrie shook her head. "No. I always wanted to though. You know, Charlie Parker was from Kansas City. Bebop was basically born here." Fuck, I'm babbling, she thought.

"I like Charlie Parker. I'm more of a Miles Davis guy myself."

Carrie raised her eyebrows, impressed. She had no idea he liked jazz. She realized she could count on one hand the number of personal conversations she'd had with Peter Quinn.

"Well, I have a crazy feeling there might be a jazz club somewhere in this city," she said sarcastically.

"Outlook is good," he laughed.

Forty-five minutes later they were wiping messy barbecue sauce off their hands and faces as Carrie wrapped up the story of the visit with her mother.

"The thing is - I never thought I could be with anyone long-term, because what's the point if they're just going to leave you eventually? That was the example she gave me."

"And now?"

"Now -" She sighed. "I don't know what to believe. I want to be with you Quinn, I really do - but…" She shook her head. "You deserve better."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

Carrie persisted. "Why me? A guy like you could get any woman he wanted. One who isn't, you know, a mental case."

"I happen to like challenging women. Call it a weakness."

Carrie rolled her eyes. "Well, you've certainly got your work cut out for you."

"Listen to me," Quinn said, suddenly serious. He folded his arms on the table and gave her a look so intense she thought she might crumble into dust right there. "I don't want anyone else. I want you."

Carrie's breath caught in her throat. They stared at each other like that for a few moments, frozen, before the waitress finally interrupted.

"Can I bring you two anything else?"

"No, thanks." Quinn said. "Actually, yes - where's a good place to see live jazz around here?"

Carrie couldn't help but grin. This would be an interesting night.